Escaping Reality
by SasuNarufan13
Summary: Even heroes need saving sometimes. Draco is more than happy to save Harry. Birthday fic; dark, unhinged Draco; MPreg; slash; abduction; more warnings inside.


**Author's note: First of all, this oneshot is dedicated to one of my dearest friends, babyvfan, because it's her birthday today. Happy birthday, sweetheart!**

 **Now, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS! This story is one of the darkest ones I've written so far. I'd say it's one of the more disturbing ones as well, so please pay attention to the warnings, because they're there for a reason.**

 **Warnings: Draco's and Harry's pov; slash; abduction; imprisonment; MPreg; implied rape/non-con; dark, unhinged Draco; suicide thoughts; set several years after the war**

 **I think those are all the warnings necessary, but please tell me if I need to add any other important ones I might have missed.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.**

 **Dedicated to: babyvfan**

 **I hope you'll like it - in spite of the general fucked up atmosphere of the story.**

* * *

 **Escaping Reality**

"Seems that Potter managed to disappear completely now," Pansy remarked idly and turned to the next page of the Evening Prophet.

He looked up from his cup of tea – of which he was contemplating what kind it was exactly, because the strong flavour was unfamiliar to him – and raised an eyebrow. "Are they still mourning the loss of their Saviour?" he sneered, inwardly rolling his eyes at the despair of the Wizarding world, just because their Saviour had decided to disappear and had refused to let them know where he had gone to.

They appeared unable to understand why Harry Potter would want privacy and some of them kept insisting that their hero had been kidnapped and the Ministry should do more to find him by putting more Aurors on the case and even reaching out to forces working in foreign countries.

"Sadly, yes. You would suppose a hand written note to the Minister explaining his absence would be good enough for those mindless sheep," Pansy snorted and shook her head.

"Hm." Draco took a sip of his unidentified tea.

Harry James Potter had disappeared off the radar seven months ago. The whole Wizarding world had been sent into a panicked frenzy, fearing the Boy-Who-Lived had been kidnapped by loyal supporters of the dead Tom Riddle and that this was retribution for Potter killing their Lord. Immediately all Aurors had been put on the case and they had interrogated every Death Eater in Azkaban and every person who was rumoured to have had ties with the organization or otherwise had been proven to bear ill intent towards the Saviour.

Draco had been one of the many who had been interrogated – not only because he was the son of a known Death Eater, but also because his rivalry with Harry Potter during their Hogwarts years was known to everyone.

It took the Aurors four days and six doses of Veritaserum and numerous Truth spells before they had to reluctantly admit that Draco had nothing to do with Potter's disappearance and had been forced to let him go.

Two weeks later, the Minister had received a letter from none other than Harry Potter himself, in which he stated that he had left to finally have some privacy and that he wouldn't reveal his location or even show himself before he felt ready to do so.

After having confirmed that the letter had indeed been written by Potter and not by an imposter, the Minister had called off all search parties and stopped the interrogations, announcing to the public that their hero had decided to take a break from everything and therefore wouldn't show up for a while.

Months following after that, letters still kept pouring in; people insisting that the Aurors kept searching, that it was time for Potter to come back into the spotlights again and that they had a right to know where he was. Some of the more extreme fans had even taken to harassing the Weasley family, specifically Ronald and his wife Hermione and his sister Ginevra, demanding them to give up the address of Potter.

There was just one thing the fans hadn't counted on: the newly formed rift between Potter and the Weasley family. After breaking up with Ginevra, because he had caught her cheating with Dean Tomas, Potter had had several fights with the Weasley family. Rumours stated that the fights were about the Weasleys trying to convince him to give Ginevra a second choice, but Potter wasn't having any of that.

Eventually their fights became so bad it soured their bond with each other and Potter broke with the family. Many suspected that there had been more to it than simply Ginevra cheating on Potter, but neither the Weasley family nor Potter had ever relinquished any information on the subject, bar the simple message that they had broken up.

As a result of their falling out, the Weasley family had never received the new address of Potter and therefore couldn't release it to the fans to spite the Saviour.

"Time for me to go home," Draco murmured with a smirk when he heard the front door open, revealing the sound of loud child laughter and the exhausted voice of Pansy's husband and father of her child, Theodore Nott.

Pansy rolled her dark eyes and scowled at him. "Wait until you have children – see if I babysit for them then," she sniffed and stood up, brushing invisible lint from her dark skirt.

Draco chuckled and stood up as well. "My future children will be very well behaved, so I don't understand the point you're trying to make." He escaped out of the kitchen to the room where the Floo was located before the woman could explode and launch herself in a lecture about her child being perfectly well behaved, despite other people claiming she was a spoilt brat.

The moment he arrived at his destination, the smile on his face died and he licked his lips. Slowly he removed his jacket and took his shoes off, replacing them with comfortable slippers.

Yes, the Aurors hadn't been able to charge him with anything. Veritaserum was a tricky substance. While it did make the consumer of it tell the truth when he or she was asked a question, it didn't always guarantee the real truth. After all, the potion forced the consumer to answer the questions – but if the questions weren't formed correctly, then the consumer could still hide things. Another tricky thing about it – and something which only a few Potions Masters knew – was that while Veritaserum forced the consumer to tell the truth, the confession of it wasn't always objective. The brain was something mysterious and very powerful; powerful enough to create an own reality. Believe enough in that version of reality and eventually even the person would start believing what they perceived as the reality. And if that person considered some events to be real, even if they weren't, then it would still come out as the truth when consuming Veritaserum.

Sadly the Aurors who had interrogated Draco hadn't been aware of those small downsides of the potion. A pity for them, but fortunate for the blond.

And he hadn't lied. No, not at all. He wasn't harming Potter, wasn't hurting him or keeping him against his will.

He liked to think he was _protecting_ Potter from the bad things that were happening in the world.

Even a hero needed protection and Draco wanted to be the one to provide him that.

His legs led him to a closed door. He stared at it for a second, before waving his wand in a complicated pattern. The door shone softly in a dark purple light, before some clicks were heard and the door was unlocked.

The room he entered was empty, though it had traces of someone living there; proof being there in the form of an empty mug and a magazine lying open on the table.

He cocked his head and listened. Ah yes. Of course. As expected; good thing he had stocked in on potions.

The door to his right opened and when he appeared in the doorway, his eyes caught sight of the figure huddled against the wall, next to the toilet. The person was shivering; his shoulders shaking. He had his face hidden against his upraised legs and didn't look up, though he would have felt Draco staring at him by now.

"Still feeling nauseous, Harry?" Draco murmured softly and closed the door behind him. Calmly he walked over to Harry and bent down in front of him. His hand slipped behind his knees and dipped down to grab his chin, lifting his face up.

Watery emerald green eyes stared back at him.

"The nausea will be over soon," he soothed and stroked a cold cheek with his index finger. The man shivered and he felt him trembling, as if he wanted to pull back and run. He knew better than doing that by now. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, but it'll be worth it in the end. Just a few weeks more and then the nausea will stop. Until then," he felt in his right pocket for the small vial that was stashed in it, uncorked it and then offered it to the black haired man, "here's a potion that will make it easier for you."

Harry pressed his lips together and a small flame of stubbornness appeared in his eyes. Defiance had always been a part of his character, but Draco had hoped he would have got rid of it by now.

He sighed. "Harry, I don't want to force you, but you really need to drink this. Or do you like feeling sick?" He cocked his head to the left.

A pause and then Harry shook his head hesitatingly. If he hadn't been so tired, maybe then he would have been able to put up a fight. As it was, Draco had no problems opening his mouth and dipping the content of the vial in his throat. He choked a bit and coughed, but he swallowed. Immediately he grimaced and Draco assumed that was because of the cold sensation that the potion tended to produce when ingested. It should soothe his nausea soon; he'd made sure that he brewed a potion which would start working quickly.

"Now, why don't we go back to the bedroom, hm?" Draco murmured, slid his arm around Harry's shoulders and the other underneath slender legs, picking him up with little to no difficulty. The body in his arms tensed and his muscles felt taut.

"There we go." The blond placed his precious bundle on the soft bed with the silk sheets and watched how Harry sat up straight against the small mountain of fluffy pillows, pulling his legs up again.

Green eyes regarded him warily when he sat down on the bed as well and crawled forwards, until he was sitting on his knees in front of the closed legs. "Harry, I missed you," he whispered and Harry clenched his eyes shut, turning his head away. Draco frowned. He didn't like it when Harry refused to look at him.

"Please, no," Harry whimpered in distress when Draco gripped his legs and pulled them down, spreading them wide so that the blond could shuffle in between them.

"Hush, I'm not going to hurt you," Draco murmured and slid lower, so that he was lying down on his stomach on the bed with his head right above Harry's stomach. Ignoring the two hands which were clenching down on his shoulders, he pushed the large sweater upwards until Harry's stomach was fully exposed. Harry's chest was heaving with how quickly he was breathing now, but Draco paid that no mind either, instead focusing his attention on the slight swelling which was clearly visible now.

He had two precious people in his life and currently both of them were right underneath him. He pressed his lips against the soft skin and kissed it, his two hands caressing Harry's sides.

"Maybe you could try to ease up and make your daddy not so sick anymore, hm? I'm certain your daddy would appreciate that," he said to the faint bulge and smiled softly. He couldn't wait until he could feel the baby kick; the books he'd read stated that the kicking would start around the fifth month and he was eager for it to happen.

He looked up, straight into Harry's anxious face. He sighed and slid upwards, being mindful of the swelling. "Have you eaten already?"

Harry nodded, biting his lower lip.

"Good. You need the nutrition more than ever now," Draco replied. His hand sneaked into dark, soft as silk hair and he kissed Harry softly, enjoying the softness of his mouth, before he pushed against the closed lips with his tongue, nibbling on his lower lip. Harry didn't seem willing to open his mouth and the hand in his hair tightened in warning, making Harry clench his eyes shut before he reluctantly opened his mouth. Draco moaned appreciatively and sought out Harry's tongue, curling around it and stroking it. He only pulled back when he felt hands pushing against his chest urgently.

He licked his own lips and his eyes gleamed when they took in the bruised, swollen red lips of his lover, parted to let his breath escape in panting. His fingers twitched and he groaned inwardly; even a day was too long to be separated from his lover. He had missed touching him, missed feeling the soft skin against his own. He began tracing a path from a sharp cheekbone over a rounded chin, trailing down until he reached a spot right above Harry's collarbone and began sucking the skin there between his lips. He had discovered a month ago that that particular spot was one of Harry's weaknesses. He liked being licked and sucked there. A soft keening sound escaped the throat he was currently marking and he smirked; he so did enjoy hearing those sounds. And he would be the only to cause them. Nobody else.

"Please stop," Harry whispered, a little hint of fear slipping in his tone.

Draco stopped kissing him and raised his head, frowning. "Why?"

"I – I'm tired."

He sighed frustrated and studied the man lying underneath him. He did seem a bit tired. Throwing up every day seemed to sap his energy, which in hindsight wasn't weird of course.

Not wanting to make Harry feel miserable, he removed himself from the embrace of those nice legs and laid down next to him, slipping his arms around him and pulling him against his chest. "Alright, then. Let's rest. We'll make up for it later." Draco ignored the way Harry stiffened at hearing that and buried his face in Harry's neck, smiling pleased when his nose was filled with the nice citrus smell that Harry favoured as his shampoo.

He placed one hand over the small swell of Harry's stomach and fell asleep.

* * *

Even heroes needed saving.

That was just a fact. People thought heroes could handle everything on their own, that they didn't need help, didn't need a shoulder to lean on to when things got rough.

They were wrong.

Everyone, especially heroes, needed someone to be there for them. Nobody could carry the weight of the world on their shoulders all the time; not without cracking eventually.

Harry Potter had come close to cracking, to shattering apart in a million pieces.

Draco knew, because he'd watched the other man. He had seen the way Harry would tense just slightly, his mouth pulling down just a tad, when yet another person clamped onto him, begging him for his help. He'd watched the man growing wearier and wearier with each dangerous mission that was heaped upon his shoulders, with each time people expected him to solve a mess one way or the other.

The public and the Ministry had unreasonably high expectations of the Boy-Who-Lived and before, Harry still had had his friends to vent against, ones who would hold him back when everything threatened to become too much for him.

In the end, they had turned out to be no better than the rest of the public clamouring for Harry's attention. As soon as Harry had shown he wouldn't conform to their image of him anymore, they'd dropped him like hot coals.

Idiots, all of them. They didn't realise just how honoured they'd been to have been able to call themselves Harry's friends, his confidants. They had shown they didn't deserve Harry, that they were unworthy of his attention and love.

Draco had been quite satisfied when he'd read about the fall out between the Weasleys and Harry, but he'd quickly realised that the fall out hadn't been that great for Harry in particular. Without his friends, he had no one to turn to when things got rough. Being as stubborn as he was, he refused to ask for help and he just kept accepting all the shit the public and the Ministry threw at him.

Nobody could see how their hero was wasting away – nobody but Draco, that was. He saw. He saw the way Harry started retreating in himself, noticed how the fire in those brilliant green eyes died out bit by bit every day. He watched him become adrift, with no one to call his own, no family to return to at night, no one to distract him from the gruelling work that was being an Auror.

Harry was turning into nothing more but a shell of himself; even the ghosts at Hogwarts had more life in them than he had. The hero was on the verge of breaking down and nobody seemed to notice or care.

Draco did, however. He cared about the man who'd saved his life when he'd had no reason to, who'd come back to him in the Room of Requirement when nobody would have blamed him for abandoning him. He cared about the man solely responsible for keeping him and his mother out of Azkaban. Father had been a lost cause anyway, but Draco knew Harry had had to use quite some personal favours in order to convince Shacklebolt and the court to let the two Malfoys go.

To be fair, if anyone had told him he'd start caring about Harry Potter eight years ago, he'd have had them thrown off the Astronomy Tower, but life had a funny way of changing he supposed. Perhaps they had always been meant to end up together, but only now that the war was over could they allow themselves to be free.

Now that they were older and had got past their childish rivalry, they were able to acknowledge what had been there between them all along. They'd been foolish to assume that loathing could be the only thing between them. Hadn't mother always teased him that his proverbial pulling on Harry's pigtails might mean something else entirely than just him disliking the boy? She was right – as she often was.

It had been surprisingly easy to come to terms with his feelings – well, at least easier than he'd expected. You could only be in denial for so long after all. Once he had acknowledged what he felt for the dark haired man, he'd started preparations. Everything had to be perfect after all, because he knew the other man would have objections at first. He would have a hard time accepting someone else taking charge for once, never mind accepting the fact that someone did care about him and most importantly, was willing to take care of him.

He would try to deny their connection at first, because he was afraid of getting hurt and Draco understood that. He was the same after all, had denied his true feelings for years because he was afraid of opening up. But Harry would understand soon enough that they fit together perfectly.

Draco would show him that.

* * *

He was running his fingers through black strands, his heart only just calming down from the sex they'd had, when Harry posed the question.

"Can I go outside?"

Draco paused, staring down at him. His head was pillowed on Draco's thigh, his eyes staring at the wall, and his hands folded gently on top of each other on the pillow.

"I need some fresh air," Harry continued. The sheets were drawn up until his waist, shielding his small belly from view.

Draco contemplated his question, pondering the pros and cons of it. He was in need of some fresh air, he acknowledged; resuming stroking Harry's hair again. He'd been cooped up inside for a while, though that couldn't have been helped. He'd been more stubborn than Draco had anticipated. He seemed to realise now that Draco had been right, however, and he hadn't tried to escape in a couple of months.

He'd attempted to a couple of times at the start and Draco had hated punishing him for it, but Harry had been too stubborn for his own good and hadn't realised that the blond had just wanted to take care of him. It had taken him some time to come to terms with the fact that he no longer needed to be the strong, infallible hero, but he'd finally got it.

"I suppose we can go outside for a while," Draco mused and blinked when he felt Harry start.

"You mean it?" Harry sat up abruptly; his green eyes looking even bigger without his glasses. "Can we go outside now?"

After casting the Tempus charm and seeing it was only two thirty in the afternoon, Draco nodded. "Yeah, we can go now. Maybe the rain has stopped by now. Can't have you becoming sick now."

Harry hummed distractedly, already shuffling off the bed in search for clothes. "If it still rains, I can just cast a shield."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You mean, I'll cast a shield for the both of us," he remarked mildly.

The pregnant man hunched his shoulders for a brief moment before nodding. "That's what I meant, yeah," he muttered. "I'm going to take a quick shower." He was gone in a flash; the absence of morning sickness enabling him to move around with more energy.

Draco pursed his lips, but decided to let it go. He'd explained why Harry couldn't have his wand back yet and the younger man had understood his reasoning. They'd been having such a lovely day so far, he didn't want to spoil that with a stupid argument about a wand.

Ten minutes later found them setting foot in the large garden, the rain momentarily having stopped. The sky was still overcast, grey clouds obscuring the blue sky, and the scent of fresh rain hung heavy in the air. The garden was fenced with thick trees on three sides; their foliage creating an impregnatable roof.

Rose bushes had been planted along a winding path that led to the back of the garden and the little buds were slowly starting to unfurl. One more week and they should be blooming fully. Perhaps he could have a little picnic with Harry between the roses on the grass then if the weather permitted it.

He watched Harry wander around the garden, first treading on the small pathway before he strayed off it and walked over the grass, squatting down once in a while to study the rose buds. His face had lost the harsh lines the blond hadn't even realised had been etching his features for a while and he looked happy, more at ease. Hm, perhaps he should take Harry out to the garden more often; remaining cooped up in his state wouldn't be healthy.

There was also no way for Harry to get out of the wards and leave Draco, so more trips to the garden wouldn't be a bad idea. Especially if being out in the garden made Harry relaxed like that all the time. The younger man was starting to become used to his life at the manor, but he was still wont to tense up at times and that just wouldn't do.

Coming up behind Harry, he wrapped his arms around the man's waist, one hand cupping his belly, and kissed his neck. He felt the other one still in his embrace, but he didn't try to step away. "What do you think of having a picnic here next week?" he suggested, nuzzling his shoulder. "The weather's supposed to be better then."

He couldn't read Harry's face, smooth as a blank canvas, but he nodded his agreement. "That's fine."

Draco smiled and drew him in for a gentle kiss. He was glad Harry had finally stopped protesting every single gesture, no matter how little. If Draco had suggested a picnic a month ago, he'd have been met with a foul glare and a clipped retort that he wasn't hungry.

He knew the other man would eventually see reason. He had just needed to get used to the feeling of being taken care of, that was all.

Everything would go a lot smoother now, he was sure of that.

* * *

" _I just want to take care of you, what's so wrong with that?"_

" _I don't need your bloody care! I don't need you saving me or whatever bullshit you were sprouting there!"_

" _Everyone needs someone, Harry, and I - "_

" _Shut the fuck up, Malfoy, and let me go now, you git!"_

" _I'm afraid I can't do that, Harry."_

 _An ugly laugh. "Yeah, we'll see about that,_ Malfoy _."_

* * *

"When can I go into the other rooms?" Harry asked pensively, stirring a spoon in his tea.

He was curled up in the armchair, a book about magical creatures cradled against his thighs.

Draco looked up from his own book and thought about it. It wasn't as if he'd been planning on keeping Harry confined to these quarters for the rest of their lives together, but it wasn't safe just yet. Some of his friends had the nasty habit of visiting unannounced and that might lead to some trouble if they happened to pop by when Harry was outside his quarters.

Blaise would keep his mouth shut if given the right incentive, but Pansy was a whole other matter. She was still much too fond of gossiping and the last thing he needed was for her to blab her mouth to other people before they were ready.

No, they still needed a bit more time before they would be ready to come out in the open completely.

"Soon," he promised.

Harry nodded slowly, appearing resigned as if he hadn't expected any other answer. His cup of tea had been put back on the tray and his attention was drifting back to his book.

Leaning across the small space Draco lifted Harry's hand and brushed his lips against his knuckles. "I'll check whether the house elves still have some of that chocolate cake left that you love so much, okay?"

"That's fine," Harry muttered and didn't resist when Draco pecked his lips quickly before leaving the room to call a house elf.

It would be nearly time for dinner, but having cake now wouldn't hurt. Harry was still a bit on the thin side, so he could use some extra snacks. Draco had promised to take care of him and that included making sure he had enough food, especially now that the man was carrying their child.

* * *

" _What the hell have you done to me?" he gasped, curling into a ball and burrowing his face into the pillow._

 _Draco sighed and petted his hair gently, paying no heed to the snarling sound he received. "Just giving you what you want," he spoke soothingly, removing his shoes and climbing onto the bed as well. His heart ached at the pain Harry was going through, but that was inevitable with the potions he'd given the younger man. Unfortunately a change like this one couldn't be undergone without pain._

" _You have no fucking clue what I want!" Harry snarled, dragging himself to the other side of the bed, making Draco's hand drop down on the mattress. Green eyes stared at him balefully before they closed and a low moan escaped him as he pressed his hands against his stomach._

" _Yes, I do, we've been over this already," Draco said patiently and undeterred he slid closer, caressing sweaty black hair out of Harry's face. "You want a family and I'm giving you one."_

" _You're insane," Harry panted, wrenching his head away. "As if I would ever want a family with a lunatic like you!"_

 _The words stung badly and he had to force himself not to react. Harry was only behaving like this because he was in pain; Merlin knew he wasn't exactly polite when he was feeling unwell. Once the potions had done their work, he'd be feeling better and he would realise that Draco just wanted to make him happy._

 _But of course given how other people had been treating him, he might not believe Draco really meant what he had told him. He really should keep that in mind, because obviously Harry's past experiences would colour his expectations from Draco now._

 _No matter. He would just have to show him that he was sincere and that he really only wanted to make Harry happy._

" _I hate you," Harry hissed, slapping Draco's hand away once again._

 _Draco just smiled and made soothing noises, knowing that it was only the pain making Harry say those awful things._

* * *

"Have you been able to feel our baby kick yet?" Draco questioned, shimmying down the bed until he hovered above Harry's stomach. He slipped a hand underneath the dark blue sweater, caressing the man's stomach softly. His belly had grown a tad more noticeable and soon enough none of his sweaters would be able to hide anymore that he was carrying a child.

"No, I haven't," Harry said, his eyes closed as he laid reclined against a couple of pillows.

It filled Draco with joy that the dark haired man felt safe enough around him to just lie back with his eyes closed. Up until two months ago, that wouldn't have been the case. Draco had come close a couple of times to giving the younger man a Sleeping Draught, because he'd often refused to rest and sleep when Draco stayed in his quarters.

They had finally appeared to be past that distrust, however, and Draco cherished that bit of knowledge, just like he cherished the man underneath him and the baby growing inside of him.

If things between them kept progressing this well, soon he and Harry would be able to come out in public together and allow the rest of the world to know about their relationship.

He could hardly wait to see the She-Weasley's sour face when she realised just what kind of gem she had let slip through her nasty fingers. Well, considering the family she hailed from, it was no wonder she hadn't realised just what kind of treasure she had let escape when she had thought it necessary to cheat on Harry.

Her loss was his gain; he would never hurt Harry like that and it appeared that the green eyed man was slowly starting to believe that.

"It probably won't be long anymore," Draco hummed, kissing Harry's belly before rising up and catching Harry's mouth in a soft kiss, swallowing his surprised noise. "I can't wait to feel our baby kick," he smiled, caressing Harry's right cheek; green eyes watching him. "I love you."

Emerald green eyes closed again.

* * *

" _You're fucking crazy if you think I'll ever love you. You're nothing to me, Malfoy, and I'm going to make you regret this. I hope you rot in hell!"_

* * *

He'd forgotten the knife.

Like a beacon, his eyes were drawn towards the small, thin object in his hand, which glinted in the dying embers of the fireplace whenever he turned it around.

The other one was usually quite diligent in making certain that none of the cutlery remained after the food was gone and that his wand was out of his reach. Not that he would have been able to do something even if he'd got his hands on the wand; the other one had made sure that his magic was muted, no chances of it lashing out.

Tonight was the first time he hadn't been careful, hadn't thought to check how many forks and knives had been sent back to the kitchen.

 _He'd probably been too distracted_ , he thought bitterly; bile rising up in accordance to the ache in his lower back when he lowered himself on the couch. When he closed his eyes he could still feel cold hands touching his body, thin lips kissing and bruising before his legs had been forced open.

His eyes shot open and he clasped a hand over his mouth, forcing back the strangled noise that wanted to burst out. Every time it happened, it made him feel dirtier and dirtier like he would never get clean again. It made him disgusted and sick and had him praying for the nightmare to end once and for all.

But the nightmare wouldn't end. It just kept going and going; an endless repeat of sickening tender touches and embraces, of whispered sweet endearments and feverish promises of keeping him safe, of swearing to take care of him and love him like he deserved, of protecting him against the bad world outside.

If love amounted to being a prisoner, he'd welcome the hatred.

He'd been searching for an escape for months, ever since he'd woken up in these godforsaken rooms, groggy and confused, but the other one's eyes were constantly on him whenever he was near. Watching him, making sure he wouldn't try anything. He'd learnt his lesson the hard way what happened when he'd displeased the other one with his actions.

There was no escape possible from this hell – at least not while he was alive.

Numbly he drew the blade lightly against his palm and watched blankly how tiny droplets of blood welled up; the slight sting not even registering in his mind. He'd had worse the past eight months.

Still holding the knife in his right hand, his left one drifted down and gripped his shirt tightly. He paused, listened to the other one breathing in the bed, and pulled up the fabric slowly until his stomach was bared and he stared down at the bump which had been flat just a couple of months ago.

 _He didn't want this_. He didn't want to have any part in that sicko's deranged fantasy and he definitely didn't want a constant reminder of what he was forced to endure over and over again. The proof of his constant violation was growing inside of him right now, growing bigger every day.

 _It made him sick._

But …

It could be over soon. Everything. He wouldn't be forced to live out the rest of his life like a prisoner inside these quarters, wouldn't have to endure those disgusting touches anymore, wouldn't need to hear those skin crawling sweet endearments anymore. He wouldn't have to look at a child that would look like the other one.

He would finally be _free_ again.

His breathing quickened when he lifted the knife, turning the sharp tip towards his belly. Just one quick stab, deep enough before he would pull it out, and everything would be all right. It would hurt for just a moment, but after that he was sure he would find peace.

Everything was better than being here.

He pressed the tip against his stomach and a drop of blood bloomed up around the silver metal. Just one quick push and it would be over. He'd be free finally.

Something fluttered and he faltered, his blood rushing loudly in his ears. His fingers tightened around the knife, but the strange sensation crept over him again and he swallowed. He steeled himself, took a deep breath and –

Lowered the knife.

He couldn't do it. If it had been just him, he would have done it without any second thought, but the taste of freedom was bittersweet on his tongue as he realised he couldn't go through with it. Not if that meant taking the life of the innocent child inside of him. He or she carried the other man's genes, so he should hate the baby on principle, but …

He didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself if he murdered the baby. The child hadn't asked for this, hadn't asked to be conceived out of this horrible nightmare. He or she was innocent, the only innocent person in this whole farce, and he had no right to snuff out his or her life before it had even properly started.

 _I'm so fucked up_ , he thought morosely even whilst his hand rested on top of his stomach, feeling the first tentative nudges of the small being inside of him, letting him know he or she was there, awaiting the day they would finally be born.

He hadn't wanted the baby, but he couldn't get rid of it either. How had he ever thought he could have done that? Guilt was already pressing down on him, feeling like black sludge in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed, stroking his stomach slowly. A couple more nudges as if the baby was trying to tell him it was okay, that there was nothing to be sorry about.

He started violently when sheets rustled and he whipped his head around, already in the process of hiding the knife and trying to come up with an excuse as to why he was on the couch. His breath left him slowly when the blond man remained asleep.

His face, the one which featured in many of his nightmares now, having the dubious honour of replacing that of Voldemort, was turned towards Harry and was soft with sleep; his blond hair mussed and his lips parted slightly.

A hot rush of hatred filled him at the sight of him and he rose up, the knife clutched in his right hand as he crossed the distance between the couch and the bed. Green eyes travelled back and forth between the knife and the man sleeping on the bed.

It would be so easy. Just one precise plunge and he'd be free. One move and this whole nightmare would finally be over. He'd be able to leave, get back to his life and the baby would never have to know what kind of a fucked up psycho his other parent had become after the war.

He had the right to do it. He hadn't asked for all of this, hadn't asked for his former school rival to lose his mind and abduct him, believing he was keeping him safe from the dangers in the world. He had never asked to be imprisoned, to have his magic supressed, to be forced to have sex whenever that son of a bitch wanted it.

He'd never asked to be part of his sick little fantasy, didn't want all this obsessive attention aimed at him.

It would be so easy …

Eyes fixated on Malfoy, he brought his hand up, the knife flashing, heavy but oh so comforting in his hand –

And slashed it down.

* * *

"Hm, Harry?" he murmured, feeling a weight settle back next to him in the bed.

"Went to the bathroom," Harry said.

Something in his voice had Draco turning his head. "You okay?"

Green eyes flicked at him before the man laid down with his back to him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You sound a bit odd, that's all," Draco said cautiously and turned around completely, curling his arm around Harry's rounded belly.

It was silent for a moment. "Just a bad dream," Harry answered eventually.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered and nuzzled the back of his neck. "Try to catch some sleep, okay? We still have a couple of hours before we need to get up."

Harry didn't answer, but his breathing gentled eventually.

Draco watched his chest rise up and down slowly, his face smoothed out in his sleep. Gently he brushed black strands back and pressed a kiss against Harry's temple.

Grey eyes flickered once to the knife on the table before they closed and he smiled, inhaling the comforting scent of his lover.

"I love you," he murmured and there was no reply.

That was okay, though. He could wait. They had all the time of the world, after all.

 _Together._

 **The End**

* * *

 **AN2: babyvfan, I hope this Draco was sufficiently dark enough - although I feel like he leant more towards unhinged than dark ^^; This has to be one of the darkest and most disturbed stories I've ever written, so yeah *coughs***

 **Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.**

 **I hope to see you all back in my future stories!**

 **Cuddles**

 **Melissa**

 **P.S. For more information about my upcoming and posted stories, please visit my profile.**


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